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Cuz I can’t think of one.

Today, I have all the classic symptoms of pms. Headache, fatigue, can’t think (the grocery list is far too complicated today), bloated, sore boobs.

At least I’m sticking with the classics and not veering off into “Die, Motherfucker, DIE!” territory.

Yet.

I make no promises though.

We had such a great weekend, too, that it’s just a bummer to be pms’ing right now.

Friday night, two of the three rugrats were gone so Master and I and the remaining child went out for dinner. We had the “almost” world famous ribs and they were HUGE and yummy.

Then he tossed me under the desk and had his way with me. I swear I came *this* close to taking a book under there with me.

It just gets so boring under there. It’s the lack of interaction that makes it boring. We spend longer times fucking in the bed and I’m not bored, far from it. I dunno though. I mean, get down on your knees and elbows and stare at the dust on your baseboards for an hour or two.

Repeatedly.

Boring, right? I can’t seem to stop myself from thinking about all the things I could be doing. And I know it’s just something I’ve got to turn my thinking around on, but I’m very very stuck right here in “this is boring and I hate it”.

Then I was getting MAD at him because he kept trying to shove me headfirst through the fucking wall and my arms were trembling they were so tired and I was just getting pissed. PMS and under the desk do not a good combo make.

Plus, my pocket rocket is dying. That sucks. It had a good run though. This one lasted me a long time. So I’m in the market for a new one.

Saturday, we met with some friends and went treasure hunting (rummage sales). Master and the other Dom (I need names, guys!)- like kids in a candy store, I swear. Heads together, holding things up, whispering. God. If there is any possible way to pervert an item, they found it every time. Too funny.

Master is such a butthead though. He takes delicious pleasure in making me blush. At one point, he was talking to the other Dom about the under-the-desk thang, and I hear “… so fucking wet, her juices were dripping off my balls…”

I just wanted to disappear into my chair. There is such a thing as TMI!

Of course, I was later talking about being able to braid my ass hair cuz he won’t let me shave, so.. meh.. I think we’ve lost our Inner Censor. Like on the South Park episode where Cartman pretends he has Tourettes? Hee.

Anyway, then we stopped at a little greasy spoon for breakfast. Good company, good food, good times. Way fun.

Sunday, we worked a little bit outside. We’re going with raised beds for the garden because there is shit for soil up here and we’re going to have to haul in topsoil anyway. So we started on the frames for those. That means I’ll probably have a smaller garden than I’d like for this year, but I’ve also got several pots I’m going to put up on the deck. Hopefully, I can at least get in everything that we eat, even if there isn’t going to be enough to can.

Now today I feel like dogshit. Meh.

This coming weekend we’re going to a play party. I’m uber excited about that. I just love the group of people we found up here. Who’d a thunk, that way up here in Bumfuck, Mi. is a hotbed of perverts. :D

Regarding the moving dilemma: They’re going to talk with him more about it this afternoon, give some more info on what’s on the table and such. For now though, and until he decides what he wants to do, I’m going on as if we aren’t going to move. It drives me crazy to be unsettled, to have things up in the air or on hold, so I’m just gonna do my thing and plant my garden and whatever.

Last year we moved just as the garden was producing so, yanno, I’m used to that anyway. Grrs.

~cunt

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